


For the Night Sky to Witness

by laraleroliro



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Body Worship, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, because we all know Atsumu's thighs deserve this kind of treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27405604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laraleroliro/pseuds/laraleroliro
Summary: It doesn’t surprise Atsumu that Kiyoomi is so carefree when drunk, actually. It’s not even that unexpected of him to get so carried away by it. He guesses he was supposed to act more responsibly given his sobriety, other than the fact that this is a party hosted by one of their team official sponsors...But it should be common knowledge by now that Atsumu simply prefers recklessness, shouldn’t it?
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 20
Kudos: 396





	For the Night Sky to Witness

**Author's Note:**

> Happy late Halloween!!!
> 
> I wasn't going to do anything for it this year, as always, but I saw [this fanart](https://twitter.com/throttleetwt/status/1322282883558637568) by Throttlee on twitter and I simply couldn't move on with my life without purging Slutty Witch Atsumu and Reckless Drunk Kiyoomi from my mind.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Omi-kun..." Atsumu sighs to himself, bridge of the nose pinched between two fingertips ornamented with metallic blue nail polish.

They're two hours into the Halloween party the MSBY sports drinks provider has thrown to promote their new energy drinks line, and Kiyoomi is already drunk as a skunk. He had promised not to get wasted to support Atsumu in his imposed sobriety as the designated driver of the night, however, the excitement shining in his eyes upon seeing the variety of colorful cocktails offered in the open bar had been enough to make Atsumu let go of holding him up to that.

Now, after watching Kiyoomi down his fifth Monstermeister, Atsumu starts to regret his lenience.

He steps forward towards the bar stool Kiyoomi currently hangs from, puts on whatever fake grin he can muster - Kiyoomi's probably too far gone to pick up on any nuances anyway - and calls out to him, hands landing on both of Kiyoomi's shoulders.

"Don't you think you have had enough, babe?" He whispers into Kiyoomi's ear, undermining any chances of his words getting lost into the pulsating music that blasts through the club. Kiyoomi's delayed gasp is comic, but the bright smile on his face contradicts any signs of being startled by the sudden unexpected touch. He turns the bar stool to face Atsumu, hooking his waist with one arm and shoving his sixth glass of Monstermeister into Atsumu's face with the other.

"You have to try this, Tsumu. It tastes really good," he sucks loudly on the straw to show Atsumu what he is supposed to do.

"I bet it does, Omi-Omi, considering how many of these you had," Atsumu quips, paying no mind to the salt sprinkled over the entire sentence. As expected, his tone flies unnoticed under Kiyoomi's radar, for he points the tip of the straw to Atsumu's direction, playful, and pokes him on the lip. "Just a little sip, c'mon."

"I can't, Omi. I'm driving, remember?"

Kiyoomi's eyes drop, and his mouth shapes into a small o that was probably accompanied by an interjection Atsumu couldn't hear. "Sorry," Kiyoomi's apologetic voice grows louder, as opposed to his huge figure curling up on itself in what seems to be an expression of shame for the broken promise he just recalled.

On one hand, Kiyoomi might not be a man of dwelling on things he doesn't have control over, like rainy days and twisted ankles. Atsumu is aware that on the other hand though, he overthinks every little thing that he, as a matter of fact, could have done differently, frowning his way to an imaginary solution until the regret is finally gone and forgotten.

Atsumu studies him for a quick second. His hair is styled in perfect curls made of the finest tourmaline, eyes just as black and bewitching, if not more. The burgundy dress shirt is unbuttoned from his abs up, revealing the fair skin and firm muscles of his chest, adorned by a gold-plated hexagram medallion Atsumu chose for him. The club lights wash out the hue of his eyeshadow, a glowy amber brown that although Kiyoomi didn't say anything, Atsumu knows he chose because it matches the barely-there pattern of his couture blazer. 

He's breathtaking to say the least. And sorry, Atsumu decides, is definitely a look that doesn't go with it tonight.

"Dance?" He suggests, cupping one of Kiyoomi's cheeks in a forgiving palm.

"Dance," Kiyoomi repeats and gets up to wobble to the least crowded corner of the dance floor, glass left behind. Atsumu follows him, stepping a foot in front of the other, confident in the black ankle strap platform heels he decided to wear with his slutty witch costume.

They sway left and right shyly to the unknown song the DJ plays at first, Kiyoomi hyper-aware of the strange people's antics in his surroundings, Atsumu concerned that his already extremely revealing outfit - a tiny black vinyl bra top and a very tight high waist black skirt - will ride up and show body parts that might end up compromising his public image later.

But Kiyoomi is drunk and Atsumu is Atsumu, so it's not long before whatever self-awareness they were trying to display dies out and they both loosen up, allowing the beat to take over their minds and free their bodies of any will besides the one to dance through the night.

Kiyoomi risks a bolder move or a piece of rehearsed choreography here and there, Atsumu rolls his waist slowly and gets down to twerk whenever the music calls for it. The 10cm leverage he’s got over Kiyoomi now thanks to the high heels extinguishes when he drops his hips low and swings them smoothly from side to side fluidly. He reaches for his knees on his way down, then leisurely lifts his arms in a circle on his way up, movements easy and flowy like second nature. With foxy eyes - shadowed in sober gradients of purple and grey - Atsumu scrutinizes Kiyoomi as he glares at the muscles of Atsumu’s thighs and ass that tense up under the stretching fabric of the skirt.

Kiyoomi steps in to close the distance between them, joining his own hands to Atsumu’s on Atsumu’s neck before they slide down together to his lower abs in a worshipping slow drag of skin on skin.

Atsumu follows their movement with the same half-closed eyes that catch Kiyoomi biting his lip when they turn to his face once again. Kiyoomi's eyes are blown wide and burning quietly in the dim lights of the club, and oh, god knows how much Atsumu gets off from lighting up that small white-hot brazier into a full-fledged wildfire. So he kisses him, slow and sensual at first, in sync with the rhythm of their bodies that sway to the music that surrounds them.

Atsumu sucks the taste of the cocktails right off the soft inner skin of Kiyoomi’s lips, pushes his tongue towards Kiyoomi’s, deepens the kiss so far in that they threaten metaphysics to disprove the principle of impenetrability.

Their pace grows faster and their breaths shorter every time their lips part only to seek for the addictive soft contact again half a heartbeat later. 

“You look so fucking sexy tonight,” Kiyoomi murmurs, bringing their hips even closer in one slow and strong grind that sends Atsumu spinning for a second. Atsumu inhales a moan, smirks and discreetly lifts a leg to trail a path up Kiyoomi’s calf with the backside of his heel.

“I was hoping to catch the eye of this one hot demon guy,” he insinuates to the shell of Kiyoomi’s ear as he wraps his arms around the large pair of shoulders sitting lower than his. "I wonder if it worked."

Kiyoomi sighs and scrunches up his face. “You really didn’t have to go this hard,” the hint of drunk desolation that makes through the lustful tone of his voice amuses Atsumu. He lets out a single giggle and grinds back on Kiyoomi to tease him a little more.

 _Oh… Speaking of hard_.

“Are you horny, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks anyway, despite the telltale moan he just got from him. “We’re in public…”

Kiyoomi laughs and thanks him for the reminder, but pushes his clothed boner onto Atsumu’s skirt regardless. Atsumu should probably tell him he’s not gonna fool anyone into believing they’re just dancing, but fortunately, no one around them seems to be paying any mind to yet another shameless couple heatedly grinding on the floor.

It doesn’t surprise Atsumu that Kiyoomi is so carefree when drunk, actually. It’s not even that unexpected of him to get so carried away by it. He guesses he was supposed to act more responsibly given his sobriety, other than the fact that this is a party hosted by one of their team official sponsors... 

But it should be common knowledge by now that Atsumu simply prefers recklessness, shouldn’t it?

So he lifts his leg a little further up, wraps it around Kiyoomi’s in a tight hook, and with a snap of his hip he pushes the warm skin of his inner thighs to meet Kiyoomi’s bulge. He doesn’t bother muffling the needy sounds that escapes his lips when Kiyoomi’s cock brushes his under the skirt, delivering it straight into Kiyoomi’s ear one after the other as they keep rutting on each other.

“Omi-kun… fuck, you’re turning me on,” he admits over a wet and breathless kiss.

“God, same,” Kiyoomi bites his neck and sucks a hickey. “I want to suck you off so bad.” Kiyoomi’s hot breath penetrates the sensitive skin on Atsumu’s neck, warming up his chest before blowing up in his groin. Atsumu moans at the prospect while he contemplates the image of Kiyoomi wrapping his lips around his girth right then and there, in the middle of the crowd. 

“Where, though? Tonight’s open bar, the bathrooms are just nasty,” the reasonable part of Atsumu’s personality finally shows up to wonder out loud.

Incredible, how the effects of arousal of over a drunk mind can be. “The VIP smoking area,” Kiyoomi’s ever so bright and observing mind recalls straightforwardly.

It’s a good spot indeed. Besides MSBY, the only VIP guests are some third division B.League team players. They might go over to the VIP area for the bathrooms, but for a bunch of no-names, the crowded smoking area downstairs should be more appealing than the quiet one in the back of the second floor. Although the same logic doesn’t perfectly apply to MSBY, Atsumu doubts any of his already super energetic teammates high on powered up cocktails will even consider such a lifeless place to hangout. It’s perfect.

Atsumu doesn’t waste any time replying. Rather, he quickly untangles himself off Kiyoomi and heads upstairs in the largest strides he can pull off in high heels, leaping over two to three steps at once to get there as fast as he can. He waves his fist to the security guard to confirm he’s wearing the golden VIP bracelet and walks past him as soon as he gets a nod from the man. Kiyoomi does the same right behind him, and they find themselves all over each other even before they get to the doors that lead to the balcony.

Past the double doors, they turn right and hide behind the last semicircular column adjacent to the building wall. It barely covers the entire width of their shoulders, but it’s the best they will find in such a place. Kiyoomi pins Atsumu against it and clashes their mouths together in a hurried kiss, full of teeth and tongue and heavy breaths, that lasts a second but an eternity as Atsumu pulls his skirt up and briefs down and Kiyoomi undoes his jeans with clumsy hands.

Kiyoomi’s gaze wanders from Atsumu’s face to his thighs, then stops at his cock to stare at it with greed. He spits on his hand and palms it with no ceremony, licking his lips in anticipation. The fear of getting caught settles in the back of Atsumu’s head as Kiyoomi strokes him to full hardness, leaving room only for his senses sharpened by arousal.

Kiyoomi trails Atsumu’s chest with kisses as he gets down to his knees in front of Atsumu’s twitching cock, covering it with small kisses and licks before he swallows it whole in one fell swoop.

Being outside must have gotten Atsumu more excited than he thought, because he feels he’s gonna melt in Kiyoomi’s mouth at any second now. He groans when he feels Kiyoomi drag his cock all the way down to his throat then back to his soft lips without effort, bobbing his head up and down tirelessly.

Kiyoomi swallows down every unwanted reflex, and the clamp of his inner walls against Atsumu’s cock is enough to make Atsumu see stars as bright as the ones shining in the sky above them.

“Fuck, Kiyoomi, you’re so good at this, _holy shit_.” Kiyoomi stops his bobbing to look up at Atsumu and twirl his tongue around the head. He blinks and hums delighted at the taste of Atsumu’s precome filling his mouth, sucking eagerly as if he had been starved for days and Atsumu had just offered him a six-course banquet.

Atsumu just _fucking loves_ to see him like this.

Kiyoomi, all stuck-up and straight-laced to the eyes of others, kneeling shitfaced before him in a public club, sucking his dick like his life depends on it, looking up at Atsumu like _that_... it all just sends Atsumu into a power trip so dope he doesn’t think he will be getting over so soon.

All-mighty and merciless, he fucks into his throat with deep thrusts, caring just enough to wipe the tears that roll down Kiyoomi’s cheeks with light strokes of his thumbs.

Kiyoomi takes it gloriously, opening his mouth wide and breathing through his nose to give Atsumu all the room he needs to come in his mouth. Atsumu cusses as he spills himself on Kiyoomi’s warm tongue and, with a satisfied hiss and a smirk, he pulls out of Kiyoomi’s tightly hollowed cheeks.

He tilts Kiyoomi’s face up with a gentle but firm grip on his chin. “Swallow it,” he orders and grins when Kiyoomi’s eyes flicker eagerly in accordance. His throat slowly pushes down all of Atsumu’s come, and he promptly sticks out his tongue to show Atsumu how perfectly he complied.

Atsumu lets go of his chin and leans back on the wall to catch his breath. He watches as Kiyoomi falls back on his ass, eyes unfocused and a loose fist that strokes his cock up and down lazily. He steps a slender leg forward in Kiyoomi’s direction, long and muscular in contrast to Kiyoomi’s slouchy figure on the floor.

“Kiyoomi,” he calls from above, and Kiyoomi finds Atsumu’s skirt in place when he looks up. His strokes become tighter and faster at the sight, the precome leaking from his slit smearing down on himself with each purposeful snap of his wrist.

 _He’s all fucked up like that and he didn’t even come yet_ , Atsumu is high again on Kiyoomi’s helplessness. He steps his leg further to nudge Kiyoomi’s thigh, ready to play with the effect he has on Kiyoomi to his heart’s content.

“ _Atsumu_ …” Kiyoomi raises his free hand to place it on Atsumu’s shoe. He strokes it gently with a smile, then moves on to caress Atsumu’s waxed shin and calf, hand travelling up and down the entire length of Atsumu’s leg he can reach.

Adoration heats up his touch. Worship lights up his eyes.

“You look so good in these heels,” he speaks slowly in between the kisses he places on Atsumu’s tanned skin.

“Yeah? How good?” asks Atsumu behind a cocky smirk.

“Beautiful, amazing, gorgeous...” Kiyoomi lists, working himself up to a kneeling position again. 

“Stunning, perfect, tantalizing, breathtaking, spectacular…” Every word is followed by a kiss, every new kiss further up than the last, paving a path from Atsumu’s calf to his knee to his thigh to his crotch to his navel to his chest as Kiyoomi gets up on his feet. “Hot,” he finalizes, staring deep into Atsumu’s eyes of molten amber.

Adulation has always fueled Atsumu to no end, that shouldn’t be news to anyone. Insatiable hunger too, like his name itself establishes, is something that has perpetually driven Atsumu throughout all of his endeavors. “Keep going,” the greed inside him encourages as he replaces Kiyoomi’s hand with his own around Kiyoomi’s cock.

Atsumu’s pace is slow and selfish, meant to drag out his own indulgence on Kiyoomi’s praise if anything. “ImpressiveWonderfulSuperb,” Kiyoomi picks up after a quick catch of his breath.

Drowning so deeply in his acclaim, Atsumu doesn’t even bother trying to put up a fight when Kiyoomi takes over control and spins him around and bends him over, face to the wall.

“Dazzling,” Kiyoomi spreads his thighs slightly apart.

“Irresistible,” he lines up his cock with the small gap he put there.

“Showstopping. Delightful. Magnificent...” he thrusts into the soft muscles of Atsumu’s inner thighs.

The small moans that punctuate his speech grow louder and longer, and Atsumu thinks them as highly as any of Kiyoomi’s well chosen words. “Fuck my thighs, Kiyoomi,” he crosses his legs to tighten his hold on Kiyoomi’s cock. “Just like that, _yeah_.” 

Although the physical stimulation on his end is minimal, he can still feel the pleasure running through his veins and heating up his skin every time Kiyoomi hisses behind him, his usual perfect composure reduced to the intuitive pursuit of his most basic desires.

Kiyoomi’s breath catches on his throat and his hips and mumbling stutter to a stop. Atsumu rocks back on his heels to keep the friction in place, straining his muscles around Kiyoomi’s cock and dragging groans from deep into his throat. He turns around with a twist of his waist, reaches for Kiyoomi’s neck to hoist himself up and then, warm and velvety against Kiyoomi’s quivering lips, he allows: “Come on my thighs, Kiyoomi.”

“ _Out of this fucking world_ ,” Kiyoomi catches his lips in a kiss and he gives one final thrust forward, nails digging into Atsumu’s quads as his thick release paints Atsumu’s thighs white and his.

They kiss through Kiyoomi’s aftershocks, short on breath and inhibition, as if getting caught from this point on was just a minor inconvenience they could excuse themselves out of with a grin and wave. Their bodies slowly fall forward into the curved surface of the column, panting and a little wobbly from the adrenaline phase-out they seem to begin to experience.

“Damn, Omi-kun,” Atsumu whistles in wonder through his faded matte lipstick. "You really went full stupid on my thighs, huh," he observes, reaching for the slick between his legs. He turns around and catches a pouty Kiyoomi rolling his eyes, a small unspoken “ _shut up_ ” caught in the smooth curve of his lips.

Kiyoomi often scolds him for being too outspoken and shameless, but Atsumu guesses he will be spared the reprimand today, after all Kiyoomi is self-aware enough to know he lost all the room to talk.

Oh, the power Atsumu holds right now.

“Care to fuck my ass like that one of these days?” he taunts then, ever so true to his spiteful nature.

Kiyoomi pulls his pants up and buckles his belt. He sighs, defeated, then looks up and gives Atsumu a sly smirk.

“Promise you're gonna fuck me in high heels first and I might.”

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if I set any expectations about romantic sky metaphors and poetic descriptions with the title,,,, it wasn't my intention really. Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it :p
> 
> Kudos and comments are well appreciated, as well as the mutual exchange of keysmashes on [twitter](https://twitter.com/blakjackal).
> 
> Please go give Throttlee some love for the amazing [fanart](https://twitter.com/throttleetwt/status/1322282883558637568) that inspired all this too!
> 
> See you around~


End file.
